


The Language of Flowers

by TheMourningMadam



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:27:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24364306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMourningMadam/pseuds/TheMourningMadam
Summary: Valentine's Day festivities are in full swing at Hogwarts in the week leading up to the day of love. Watch as Draco Malfoy uses a bouquet of flowers a day to win the heart of one Hermione Granger.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 3
Kudos: 58





	1. Forgiveness

"These are so _asinine_ ," Hermione Granger complained to the youngest Weasley.

Hogwarts was atwitter with Valentine's Day preparations. The War was over and it seemed that the teenagers were more carefree than in any year Hermione had ever attended the magical school. The seventh years, first-time and returning, were setting decorated boxes along the corridors outside of their Common Rooms. The intent was to anonymously pass along Valentines goodies to one another.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Quit being such a stick in the mud, 'Mione. You never know…your true love could be waiting out there," she said, gesturing toward the belly of the castle.

Hermione huffed. "I highly doubt that," she mumbled, placing her sparsely decorated red and pink box on the floor next to Ginny's.

Hermione hated Valentine's Day with a passion. Her past attempts at relationships—if you could call them that—with Viktor (a study partner), Cormac (a human octopus) and Ron (her long-time best friend but awkwardly improper choice for a boyfriend) had all failed miserably. She'd completely given up trying to pursue anyone within the castle walls. There were more important things than silly teenaged crushes, anyway—like NEWTs and apprenticeships at the Ministry…

"We'd better get to Defense Against the Dark Arts. You know Professor Scylla gets when we're late," she said, taking her friend by the elbow.

When they entered the classroom, there were only two seats left. Ginny grabbed the nearest one and Hermione internally groaned as she sauntered up to where Draco Malfoy was sitting in his seat, relaxed into a slouch against the back of the chair, his arms crossed over his chest. She slid in next to him and he gave her a polite nod. "Granger."

The year was more than half-way finished and Hermione hadn't had more than a few passing conversations with Malfoy in that time. But each time they'd spoken, he'd been well mannered. Long gone were the slurs and insults he'd tossed around in childhood, instead replaced with the occasional compliment on her studiousness or quick wit, quick pleasantries exchanged good-naturedly. His newfound personality brought with it a whole new set of irritations for Hermione—like a budding interest in Draco Malfoy as a human…as a man. If ever there was a worse choice to become attracted to, she couldn't think of who it might be.

"Malfoy," she replied, retrieving her items from her bag to begin taking notes.

They were studying magical items that were imbued with dark magic and Professor Scylla, a short bald man of about a hundred and fifty whose voice was dull and droning, flashed the image of various hand weapons. She caught sight of a dagger and her hand went to her left forearm where the word MUDBLOOD had faded into a dull pink.

Malfoy saw her actions and stiffened immediately beside her. She shook her head and brought her quill to paper once more, the quill scratching furiously as she took notes. Malfoy was penning what looked like shorthand notes, nothing more than various words and symbols she didn't quite recognize. Hermione pursed her lips. He was second in their class, barely behind her in points at all, and yet _this_ was his note-taking style?

He seemed to be thinking the same thing of her style. Malfoy leaned forward and got close to her so the Professor couldn't hear. "If you write any faster, you're going to tear a hole right through the parchment, Granger."

Hermione glared at him as gooseflesh rose over her skin at the feel of his warm breath tickling her ear. "And if you took any less information down, I'd think you weren't listening at all."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow and gave her a smirk. "I'm only teasing."

She felt her cheeks flush at the smile he gave her. Since when did Draco Malfoy make her blush? Hermione trained her eyes on her parchment once more and tried to focus on what the teacher was saying.

She was finding it increasingly more difficult, however, as her desk partner became bored with the lecture. His leg bounced up and down rapidly, occasionally brushing against her own. He was left-handed—something Hermione had never noticed before this—so his elbow would bump hers every so often. In between the quick scratch of his quill against parchment as he jotted another strange symbol or word, he would tap the feather against his chin, drumming the fingers of his right hand against the desktop. From her peripheral, she could see him bite his lip absently as he stared straight ahead. He run a hand through his white blond locks, no longer caked with gel, but soft and luxurious. _Luxurious?_

As she fought to concentrate, her notes became increasingly more messy and sporadic. When the bell finally chimed to indicate the end of the period, she breathed a sigh of relief. Sitting beside him had been torturous—his little ticks and nuances were highly agitating. She capped her inkpot and stowed it in her bag before swinging it over her shoulder.

Hermione was nearly out the door when she felt a soft hand on her shoulder. "Granger, wait."

Her insides did a flip, much to her chagrin. She looked up at him expectantly, an eyebrow raised. He let go of her shoulder and used that hand to run through his hair once more. The silken locks fell about his head messily, some landing in his eyes in a way that made Hermione's knees knock. "I was wondering if maybe you'd like to start studying together some? NEWTs are only a few months away, after all."

She bit her lip and watched as his eyes flashed down to her mouth for a brief moment before heading back up to her eyes. He readjusted his bag on his shoulder and the corners of his mouth twitched. "Well?"

Hermione nodded. "Sure. I go to the library—"

"Every night after dinner. I know," he replied with a laugh that sounded…nervous?

Her heart started beating rapidly at the thought of him watching her just as intently as she watched him. "Meet me in the back left corner—"

"Near the restricted section. The long table by the window," he said, flashing her a genuine smile. "See you tonight, then."

Hermione nodded and watched his back retreat as he made his way to Alchemy on the fourth floor. She smiled to herself and turned on her heel to head up to Arithmancy.

o-o-o

That evening, Hermione watched as Malfoy rose from the Slytherin table and said goodbye to Theo Nott and Astoria Greengrass. He strode out of the Great Hall and she smiled and stood to follow. She said a brief goodbye to Ginny and Neville, mentioning that they shouldn't wait up.

She entered the library and went to her usual table, but Malfoy hadn't arrived yet. He'd left before her, why wasn't he there yet? Perhaps he stopped off in the loo or the dungeons to retrieve a book. She sighed and sat down, pulling a long scroll out of her bag—her color-coordinated study schedule.

Hermione was lost in her own thoughts as she spread books out before her. "Impressive," came a velvety voice behind her, close enough that she could feel his breath tickle her crown.

"Thanks…I just like being prepared," she mumbled.

Malfoy slid into the seat across from her and he dropped his bag to the floor by his feet. He'd removed his tie and his shirt was unbuttoned up top. He had rolled the sleeves of his shirt up just twice and she saw the bright red outline of his faded Dark Mark peek out from just under his left sleeve. He seemed to notice her gaze and thrust his sleeves down quickly. "Sorry," he muttered.

Hermione shrugged. "It's all in the past, isn't it?"

Malfoy stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he leaned forward in his chair and reached across the table to where she was resting her chin in her cupped hand. He brushed a curl behind her ear and gave her a timid look. "It may have been in the past…but it's never too late to apologize, is it?" he asked, a haunting pain in his pewter eyes.

Hermione's brow furrowed in confusion and she dropped her hand from her chin and leaned forward on the table. "What should you apologize to me for? We all heard what happened to you, why you did what you did. We've all come to terms with it," she said quietly.

"I have given many apologies out over the last year. But I have yet to apologize to you," he said, reaching over and placing his hand over hers. "I'm sorry for my inactions in the Manor…that day."

"Draco…there was nothing you could have done differently," she replied, staring at where his thumb was gently caressing her hand.

"I should have fought back, not cowered in the corner. I'll never forgive myself, but I hope one day, you'll be able to forgive me," he said, his voice dripping with sincerity.

She gave him a weak smile. "Why don't we go ahead and get started studying for Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall's not going to go lightly on us," she said, pulling her hand from his grasp.

He frowned but nodded.

o-o-o

"Can I walk you up to Gryffindor Tower?" Malfoy asked later that evening.

They'd gone through various Transfiguration spells, turning various objects into living beings and back. Hermione and he had both laughed when the rabbit he had transfigured from a quill nibbled at his pant leg. Hermione found him to be intelligent and witty. He could even be funny when he tried. She'd not had the pleasure of hearing too many genuine laughs from him, and the sound of it made a lump rise in her throat as her heart beat wildly.

"How about to the base of the stairs? That's half-way between our two dorms," she pointed out.

"Fair enough," he said, retrieving her sagging school bag from the tabletop. "Gods, Granger. Is there a body in here?"

"Ha ha. _Very_ funny," she said, elbowing him playfully. "I can carry it—I'm used to it."

"What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't carry it at least to the staircase? My mother would beat me senseless at my poor manners," he laughed again.

Hermione tried to imagine Narcissa Malfoy admonishing her son for being rude to a female. The thought was absurd and laughable. "So," he started, "are we on for tomorrow night as well? I wanted to go over my Potions notes. I think I'm missing something on that Draught of Living Death."

Hermione knew good and well that Draco Malfoy did not need help with Potions—he was top in that class. She'd always assumed it was because Snape was his godfather and mentor, but his grades had kept up with Slughorn teaching it all the same. He simply wanted one more night with _her_. "Sure. Same time, same place."

They arrived at the base of the staircase. Malfoy held out her bag and with a tap of his wand, it became instantly lighter. "At least act like the brilliant witch you are and use a feather-light charm on the bag!"

Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes, snatching the bag from him playfully. "Goodnight, _Draco_."

He raised an eyebrow. "Sweetest of dreams, _Hermione_ ," he challenged as he leaned against the banister at the end of the stairs.

He leaned there while she walked up the stairs, pretending to inspect his immaculate nails. But when she got to the top of the stairs, she looked down at him and he was smiling up at her. He lifted one hand in a small wave and took off walking toward the dungeons. Hermione swore there was a spring in his step she didn't recognize.

She came upon the portrait of the Fat Lady and reluctantly looked in the direction of her Valentine's box. To her surprise there was something sitting atop it. She looked both ways to make sure someone wasn't lurking around or watching her and she nearly sprinted to the box.

Perched atop was a bouquet of purple hyacinths and white tulips, all wrapped in a dark purple ribbon. Tucked into the ribbon, a single square of chocolate. Her heart was beating so hard she could feel its pulse in her chin as she opened the card. A small, ethereal looking white dove floated out from the card and flew around her head twice before disappearing.

_How can I possibly put into words the thoughts and feelings_

_Causing me such turmoil inside my head?_

_No words will ever be enough to express how sorry I am._

_I can scarce breathe when I think back on that day._

_How can I possibly ask you to forgive me?_

_When I can't forgive myself?_

_Please forgive me._

_DM_

Hermione fingered the neat penmanship, slightly slanted to the left. Purple hyacinths and white tulips—flowers of apology and forgiveness. This must have been where he'd come after dinner, why he was late getting to the library.

Hermione felt a flutter in her stomach, a kaleidoscope of butterflies flapping wickedly. She had already forgiven him, when she sat in the courtroom as he testified about his life, why he'd taken the Mark, his reluctance in following Voldemort. He was a child, caught up in a Dark adult world and she actually felt for him when he wept over his testimony.

But for him to give her a sincere apology face-to-face in the library, then by way of card and flowers, it meant more to her than she'd ever thought it could. She'd noticed all year the way he'd changed. But she knew this was the biggest change in him she'd seen yet—the ability to feel true remorse and to admit fault without blaming anyone or anything else.

Hermione ran her lips and chin over the soft flowers and stepped through the portrait hole, whispering a quick, _"Lemon tart!_ " to the Fat Lady. Ginny was studying with Neville and nearly jumped out of her seat when she saw Hermione carrying flowers. "Who are those from?" she screeched excitedly.

Hermione didn't quite know why, but she wanted to keep this between she and Draco. He hadn't made the effort to hide them by any means, but it was special to her. "I'm not sure, there was no card," she replied, tucking the card into her chest so Ginny couldn't see.

Ginny smirked at her. "I told you! You've got a secret admirer!" she squealed.

Hermione couldn't hide the smile that spread across her face, the flush in her cheeks. She wasn't sure if Malfoy _admired_ her, but she appreciated the effort he'd made to show his remorse and apology.

o-o-o


	2. Admiration

The next morning, Hermione awoke early to get ready for classes. She wanted to get to the Potions classroom early to begin looking over her notes on the Draught of Living Death…just in case. She reread the card Malfoy had left with the flowers, twice, a small smile playing at her lips.

When she left to go to breakfast, much earlier than her dorm mates, she glanced briefly toward her box and found it to be topped with yet another bouquet. Her heart fluttered as she walked up to it. It was still so early that the sun was just barely peeking through the sky, but he had beaten her to her box already.

She retrieved the bouquet and found it was made up of heather in a pale lavender shade, red carnations and dark fuchsia colored stock flowers: flowers of admiration. Again, a single square of chocolate was woven into the fuchsia ribbon. Hermione's face broke into wide grin and she leaned back against the stone wall of the corridor. Her hands shook slightly as she plucked the card from where it was nestled. A little orange fox rose, just as the dove had the day before, and trotted around her ankles, nipping at the hem of her robes before disappearing.

" _There is an innocence in admiration:_

_it occurs in one who has not yet_

_realized that they might one_

_day be admired."_

_F. Nietzsche_

_I admire your courage,_

_Your wit and intelligence;_

_Your tenacity and the innocent curiosity_

_With which you live your everyday life._

_I would love to just speak to you, listen to your every_

_Whimsy and thought, admire you up close, instead_

_Of only from afar._

_DM_

Hermione leaned against the wall a few minutes longer, a smile plastered across her face. Draco Malfoy, whom she'd once loathed, was clearly trying to woo her. The bouquet yesterday she'd thought a mere apology. But this? This was a letter of _admiration_. He thought about her, he admired her, he wanted to talk to her outside of just Potions and Charms. He wanted to speak and listen to her "every whimsy and thought."

The thought made her head spin. She was thankful that Harry and Ron had accepted their apprenticeships at the Ministry early instead of returning to Hogwarts. She didn't think she could stand their outrage, their disgust, their teasing. More importantly, she wanted to get to know Draco Malfoy—his every whimsy and thought, just as much and she was thankful for the unencumbered chance to do just that. Ginny was far too busy leading the Gryffindor Quidditch team to repeated victories to truly keep an eye on Hermione's day-to-day goings on. She was alone at Hogwarts, but suddenly, she didn't feel so lonely.

o-o-o

Malfoy had been curiously absent during breakfast. Hermione felt somewhat disappointed to discover the lack of his blond head anywhere. She'd placed the newest bouquet on her other nightstand, the two now flanking her bed pleasantly, their scent light and inviting. But she kept the two cards in the breast pocket inside of her robes. She could feel the thick cardstock parchment when she moved and it was a pleasant reminder of Malfoy's newfound kindness.

She sat in the Potions classroom, reading over her notes on the Draught of Living Death. Other Gryffindors and Slytherins began filing in, looking exhausted as they always did in their first class of the day. She absently ran the quill over her lips as she read from her textbook.

Hermione almost felt, rather than saw, the moment he swept into the classroom. He was smiling politely at something Theo Nott was saying when she looked up. He fell behind Astoria and Theo, allowing them to reach their three-person table much more quickly. As he walked down the aisle separating their two rows, his hand brushed across the side of Hermione's desk, his robes tickling her hair as he brought his hand back up to grasp his school bag. In its wake, he'd discretely dropped a piece of parchment, folded origami in the shape of a rose and no bigger than a galleon, next to her right hand.

She blushed as she gnawed at her bottom lip, turning to the side to try and hide the parchment from Ginny's prying eyes. Hermione tapped her wand against it and it unfolded itself in her palm, tucked into the crook of her right arm.

_Meet me? Lunch._

_By the Black Lake._

_DM_

She quickly tucked the parchment into her pocket with the others and looked over her shoulder. Malfoy was sitting on the outside toward the aisle where his left-handedness wouldn't disturb his two Slytherin friends. He was leaning forward on the desk, looking past Theo to speak to Astoria, gesturing with his hands and laughing as he spoke.

She raised an eyebrow and he turned his head toward her slightly, making eye contact long enough for her to give him a subtle nod. His smile grew wider and he settled back in his seat as Professor Slughorn filed in.

The Professor droned on for what felt like days, though it was only a few hours. They were reviewing past potions in preparation for the NEWTs, and she already knew the material, so she took a few notes as she listened, knowing that her extensive notes on every potion she'd ever made were nestled in alphabetical order in her school trunk.

Hermione dared peek over her shoulder during the lecture, using the need for a new quill as a guise. Malfoy was relaxed as always and had no parchment or ink out in front of him. He was staring intently at Professor Slughorn with his arms folded over his chest, his left leg bouncing with impatient boredom, just as it had in class the day before.

He met her gaze briefly and flashed her a small smile before he raised his chin in smug satisfaction. He was enjoying turning her into a blushing, staring fool.

Class finally ended and she watched as Malfoy followed Theo and Astoria out, talking animatedly. She'd never seen him so relaxed with anyone before and it hit her again that she really didn't know him very well. Hermione went up to Gryffindor Tower to drop her bag off—her afternoon was a free period and she wouldn't need it. She pulled off her robes and pulled a jumper over her head.

It was unseasonably warm for February, feeling more like early April. The snow had melted, though there was still a thick layer of ice over the Black Lake when she approached. Malfoy was standing with his back to her, his school bag slung over his shoulder. "I thought you'd stood me up," he called, not bothering to turn around.

"Sorry…I went up to discard my things," she mumbled, feeling more awkward and shy than she had in a long time.

Malfoy ran a hand through his hair and smiled down at her when she stopped next to him. "Why don't we walk a ways? I thought we could sit in the gardens."

The students of Hogwarts had put together a large area of the property to serve as a meditative garden, in honor of the War heroes. It was surrounded by a tall hedgerow, but within was a lush green garden, full of flowers and life. It had a charm placed on it and stayed perpetually warm all year round.

Malfoy led her into the garden and they found it to be empty. Hermione had been in here once or twice to read earlier in the year, but now she found herself searching for any sign of purple hyacinth and lavender heather. "There not from here," Malfoy said with a smirk, stopping in one corner and retrieving his bag from his shoulder.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. He smiled. "They're from my mother's enchanted gardens at our home in France."

"Oh? Do they no longer live at the Manor, then?" she asked, hoping she sounded casual.

"No…would you?" he asked, pulling a soft blanket from his bag and spreading it out for them to sit on.

"Definitely not," she replied, bristling with the thought of the atrocities that had been committed with the walls of his childhood home.

Malfoy continued to pull items from his bag and set them along one edge of the blanket—foodstuffs. "I thought you might be hungry, since we're skipping lunch and all," he said, gesturing for her to sit.

Hermione obliged and sat on the soft green and silver flannel. He'd brought an assortment of sandwich items and a large carafe of what appeared to be lemonade. "It pays to tutor the Hufflepuffs in Potions. Their close proximity to the kitchens works to my advantage—I spent the morning getting these things with a little help from a 'Puff," he said with a laugh, sitting next to her and stretching his legs out before him and leaning back on his palms.

"Ah, yes, payment in deli meats and bread. I can see why you'd be so open to tutoring," she teased.

"And don't forget the sweets—all the biscuits, cake, tarts and creams I could ever hope for!" he laughed.

"Are you going to eat?" she asked and he shrugged, retrieving an apple from the pile.

"So…how do you get the flowers from your mother?" she asked him, leaning back on one hand as she popped a grape into her mouth.

"I told her what I wanted, she wrapped it and sent it to me by owl."

"Oh, so I have _her_ to thank for the beautiful presentation, then?" she teased nudging his shoulder with her own.

He blushed lightly, a beautiful display across his alabaster features. "Not exactly…she sent me a bunch of flowers in a box…it was up to me to assemble them and…wrap them in ribbons."

Hermione looked at him strangely, trying to picture Draco Malfoy wrapping pink ribbons around a handful of flowers. The thought struck her as funny and she began to giggle. He frowned. "You don't like them?"

"I love them…it's just…back in third year, I never would have imagined you playing with flowers and ribbons."

He seemed embarrassed and she nudged him again. "I love them. Really. The apology was very sweet and meant a lot to me."

"And what of the one this morning?" he asked, looking down at his crossed feet as he set his half eaten apple aside.

Hermione flushed as she thought of the message within that card. She was certain he'd hear her heart beating. "I want to spend time getting to know your every whimsy and thought as well," she admitted, taking a long draw of lemonade from the drink they shared.

Draco let out a long exhale of air and then grinned. Hermione could feel her heart beginning to thrum as he reached his hand up. He used his thumb to wipe at the corner of her mouth and then licked his finger. "You had some mustard on your face."

"Well…since you've got me alone…what would you like to know?" she asked, a lump in her throat that, try as she might, she couldn't swallow down.

"Ah, yes. The proverbial game of twenty questions," he said, screwing his face up in mock thought. "What is your favorite class?"

"Ancient Runes…you?"

"Alchemy. What about Ancient Runes is it that you like so?" he asked.

Hermione thought for a moment. "I enjoy studying languages of past people and civilizations. The protective and inventive spells and hexes they used, drawn out in nothing more than symbols. It's just fascinating."

She thought about his strange note taking. "I noticed when you take notes, you don't write out full sentences…you kind of just write a word here and there and an odd assortment of symbols."

Draco looked over at her and gave her a timid but playful smile. "I didn't know you were studying me so intently, Miss Granger."

She blushed and looked away from his handsome face, out into the gardens beyond them. A group of butterflies chased one another a few yards from them and she watched as they soared and then landed among the flowers. "You're left-handed…I'd never noticed. But when you kept bumping me, I may have glanced over your parchment…what language is it, then?"

Malfoy laughed lightly. "You didn't recognize the symbols from your ancient runes class?"

Hermione frowned. "No…I didn't. At least not at the time. Perhaps I could give it another look?"

He looked down at their feet once more. "No use. You won't recognize them. It's a system of symbols that I came up with in childhood."

"Why though?"

"I was alone a lot as a child…had a lot of free time. I enjoyed reading any and everything I could get my hands on. But I've always been an impatient note taker. I can't write novels of notes like you do. So I developed a way to be more efficient."

Hermione thought about this. She'd never before wondered what Draco's childhood before Hogwarts had been like but she suddenly pictured a young towheaded boy, lonely beyond measure, holed up reading and creating his own language. Not completely unlike her own childhood. She reached over and placed her hand over his, a show of camaraderie.

A smiled tugged at the corner of his lips. "Favorite book?" he asked.

"Muggle or wizarding?" she asked him.

"Both."

"I enjoyed _A Tale of Two Cities_ quite a bit. And of course, _Hogwarts, A History_ ," she said with a shrug.

" _A Tale of Two Cities_? I haven't read that one," he told her.

"I wouldn't imagine you've read too many Muggle novels as it is," she shrugged.

He brought his outstretched leg closer to hers and brushed his pant leg against her stocking clad leg. "I rather enjoyed _Oliver Twist_ , if we're going the Charles Dickens route. Though…I much prefer dystopian novels, like Ayn Rand's _Anthem_ or _Atlas Shrugged_ ," he finished with a smirk.

"You read Muggle novels?" she asked, surprised.

"I read _everything_. Medical textbooks, Muggle novels, books on the Wizarding War of 1412, instructional guides on Alchemy projects, DIYs for herbology greenhouses…any and _every_ thing," he said, smiling.

Hermione looked at him with her mouth agape. If he was telling the truth, he was more similar to her than she'd ever thought possible. He had an unquenchable thirst for knowledge just as she had.

"Did you ever have any pets growing up?" he asked suddenly, closing his eyes and raising his face to be warmed by the sun.

He laced the fingers that rested below hers through her own as they sat side by side. "My mother is allergic to pet dander, so I never had anything growing up. I've had Crookshanks a while now—I found a potion to rid him of the issues so my mother wouldn't sneeze incessantly. You?"

"I had an albino ball python named Pete. He died a few years back," he replied.

"A snake? Of course, the Prince of Slytherin would have a snake," she replied, shivering.

"You don't like snakes?" he asked playfully.

"No way! As a rule, I don't like things that are slimy and slithery!" she exclaimed with a laugh.

"I'm more concerned about one Snake in particular, actually," he replied, moving to bring the hand that wasn't holding hers to push a curl over her shoulder.

She looked up at him and his grey eyes held a glint of mischief. Despite herself, she felt her smile stay plastered in place. "I suppose there's an exception to every rule, isn't there?"

"I suppose there is if you're Hermione Granger!" he laughed.

"And what is _that_ supposed to mean?" she teased, sitting up and turning to face him, her legs criss-cross.

He mirrored her movements and sat with his knees pressed against hers. "Oh, gee, I don't know. Perhaps that you bend the rules to your liking quite often. I understand you spent months brewing Polyjuice in the girl's bathroom? Or how about poor Marietta, who never could get rid of the scarring? Shall I keep going?"

"Okay, okay. I get the picture," she said, rolling her eyes.

"So how about this? Is there an exception to your snake rule?" he asked, tapping her knee with his hand.

She looked up at him and his hair fell over his eyes as he stared at her expectantly, a pale blond eyebrow raised. Her pulse quickened and she brought her lip between her teeth for a moment, a movement that didn't escape Draco's perceptive eyes. "Do you want there to be?" she asked quietly, her voice no more than a whisper.

In response, he leaned forward and pressed his lips firmly against hers in a chaste kiss. "I'd like the chance to prove that I am _worthy_ of you," he said gently before moving back in to capture her lips a second time.

He threaded his hand into her hair and she placed her hands on his chest. She ran her tongue along his bottom lip and she felt him smile and let out a low chuckle. Much to her irritation her pulled away and kissed her forehead before leaning back on his palms once more. "Ever the eager one," he said, a sly smile in his face.

o-o-o


	3. Worthiness

When Hermione awoke on the third morning, she nearly ran into the hall outside of Gryffindor Tower, eager to see if there would be a bouquet. Much to her dismay, her Valentine's box sat barren, only a few colorful slips of paper and a handful of chocolates rattling in the bottom. Not his colorful flowers or expensive squares of the finest Swiss chocolate. She didn't bother to look at the other slips of paper—no use, her mind was made up.

She was unnecessarily downtrodden as she showered and dressed for the day. It was now Wednesday, and the Gryffindors had double Charms with Ravenclaw, then double Herbology with the Slytherins. When she went down to breakfast, it was well after her usual early time and she'd have to skip her morning trip to the library.

As she entered the Great Hall, she saw his head first, dipped low and speaking conspiratorially with his fellow snakes. When she passed his table to take her seat, she saw his eyes rise from Astoria's face to make contact with her own, his gaze steady and warming as a wide smile spread across his face. Hermione sat with her back to him so she wouldn't have to see the smirk he held at yesterday's memories.

They'd stayed longer than just their lunch period in the garden, smiling and laughing. For such a broken boy, he'd let loose and turned into a joyous man. Hermione was starting to wonder if this Malfoy had been hidden deep beneath the little bigoted prat of third year. He was a delight to be around—intelligent, quick witted, sarcastic in all the right ways, handsome, coquettish. She couldn't fathom how the flirty, thoughtful man vying after her affections now was the same darkly brooding individual of yesteryear.

He hadn't kissed her again. The attraction was clearly there, but he didn't even attempt it again, even as she brushed his soft hair away from his forehead, her own breath tickling his face from the proximity. He remained polite and gentlemanly and every bit the proper pureblooded aristocrat he'd been raised to be. But his kiss lingered on her lips, like a whisper caught in the wind. The whisper of tomorrows.

When Hermione arose, her breakfast nearly untouched as butterflies battled pleasantly in her belly, she dared to eye him from her peripheral. She was absently touching her lips and as she eyed him, she saw him run a tracing fingertip over his own. He rose as well and his friends followed closely behind as they made their way to double Transfiguration. He fell in step with her when they reached the ends of their respective tables. "You look remarkably pretty today, Granger," he said, loud enough for his friends to hear.

Hermione turned to look over her shoulder and saw Theo Nott smirking to himself and Astoria Greengrass lifting one perfectly manicured eyebrow amusedly. She felt her cheeks flush with warmth. What was Malfoy doing? They hadn't made a move in the last two days to go public with their mutual admiration of one another. She felt his hand brush against hers and she cherished the warmth of his skin as his hand traced over hers briefly. Not quite holding hands, but satisfying their bashful need for contact. They separated at the base of the staircase and he smiled down at her. "I won't be able to see you tonight…Quidditch practice," he said ruefully, brushing her hair over her shoulder.

Astoria and Theo were lingering in the corridor a few paces back, talking amongst themselves and trying to look completely uninterested as the couple spoke. Hermione watched them and Malfoy stepped in her line of sight to block them. "Ignore them. They're overprotective of me since the war. Never thought I'd need bodyguards," he muttered, stepping in to brush a thumb over her cheek.

Hermione smiled at him and poked his chest playfully. "You never know…I haven't decided whether or not to hex you for ending that kiss yesterday," she said and her brain was screaming at her that she was saying these things uncharacteristically.

Malfoy didn't seem to mind, however. He ran a fingertip over her bottom lip where she was pouting and laughed throatily. "You want me to kiss you?" he asked, his tone mischievous.

Hermione's heart stopped beating for a moment. "I thought I'd made that obvious," she said, eyeing a group of seventh year Gryffindors walking their way.

He said something in front of his friends, but would he in front of other students? Did she want him to? Those questions were answered in a split second. Draco followed her gaze and saw her apprehension and questioning. He didn't give her too much time to react. "Then I shall kiss you," he said and he dipped his lips to hers.

When she pulled away after three precious seconds, the Gryffindors were all staring at the strange pair and talking behind their hands and giggling as they passed. But Hermione couldn't find it in herself to care. He'd shown her an actual display of affection in public. Again, not a deep, burning kiss but a sweet show of attentiveness.

"See you in the greenhouses," he said, giving her his bright smile once more.

She stared after him, his strange behaviors confusing and tantalizing. Three days ago, she never would have believed Draco Malfoy would kiss her in the corridor between classes.

o-o-o

Hermione ambled down to the greenhouses that afternoon. Her heart was already pitter-pattering at the thought of seeing Draco. They were going to spend the class trimming back Devil's snare, repotting venomous tentaculas and weeding herb beds. Not particularly exciting work, but necessary for sustaining the Potions supplies. The thought of his hands plucking weeds and turning the earth did something to her.

He was already in the greenhouse when she arrived, leaning casually against a work table, his arms crossed over his chest. She caught his eye as she went to stand by Neville on the Gryffindor side. He looked up at her, the slightest upturn of his face away from the ground. His grey eyes peeked through his hair and his lips turned upward as he looked back toward his shoes.

The others in the greenhouse looked between the two, whispering and eyeing them as though this was the juiciest piece of gossip they'd ever heard. How scandalous. The War Heroine and the Death Eater. She rolled her eyes at them. Idiots. He seemed unfazed by it all as he listened to Professor Sprout intently.

The class broke apart and set to work. Hermione picked an inconspicuous section of the greenhouse and began plucking strangling weeds away from the wolfsbane. It caught her off guard when a large onyx colored owl swooped in through a cracked window and sat down on the wall of the raised herb garden. He was carrying a bouquet of flowers with him. Cream roses, white heather and yellow daffodils, broken up with green sprigs: flowers of worthiness and loyalty. It was wrapped in a gold ribbon with the single square of white chocolate.

"It would appear you have an admirer, Granger," his cool voice came from behind her.

She turned to see him come up beside her and pull an owl treat from his pocket. "Thank you, Hades. You can go now," he said, running a gentle hand over the bird's feathers.

The owl gave his master a love nip and took flight. Hermione lifted the bouquet to her nose and inhaled the soft rose scent. "It does, huh?" she asked, plucking the card from the center.

When she opened it, a small Scottish terrier trotted out of it. It lifted its face to touch its nose to Draco's and then disappeared upon his breathy laugh. "These are impressive little shows of magic, Malfoy," Hermione said, looking up from the card a brief moment to raise an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, you think so?" he asked, leaning forward and plucking a few weeds from her herb garden.

She hummed a response and looked down at the card. She noticed his ears turn pink when she did—he could write sweet sentiments, but apparently he was abashed to have her read them in front of him.

_I would like to spend each day,_

_Diligently proving that I can_

_Be worthy of such beauty and majesty._

_I have made all the wrong choices in life._

_But this choice feels so right._

_DM_

Hermione could feel her face flush and she peered around at her classmates. The girls were staring at her, a few with their mouths agape, a few looking thoroughly jealous. One Slytherin smacked her boyfriend's arm and he glared in Malfoy's direction: he was clearly failing in comparison to Draco's standards.

"Thank you," she whispered in his direction and he nodded once, his flushed face slowly returning to normal.

At the end of class Hermione tucked her bouquet carefully into her bag, making sure not to crush the tender buds. On the way out, Professor Sprout handed each female a small red velvet pouch. "To get into the holiday spirit!" she exclaimed merrily.

Draco fell in step beside Hermione. "What is it," he asked, his arm brushing against hers.

Hermione opened it and pulled out five dried bay leaves and a small piece of parchment that read, _"Pin to your pillow to dream of your Valentine!"_ with a small diagram of how they should be pinned.

She handed Draco the parchment as she stowed the leaves back in their little bag. "Rather archaic if you ask me," she said absently.

"Where's your sense of romanticism, Granger?" he said, a smile playing at his lips as he handed her the parchment.

She put the pouch in her pocket and she felt his fingers slip into hers. "Will you pin them, then?"

"Probably not. I'm not much on fanciful superstitions," she answered truthfully.

"Hmm…you don't want to dream of me?" he challenged playfully.

"And what if I dream of someone else?" she quipped.

"Then I would have to avenge my honor and dignity and hex the poor lad," he replied, giving her hand a squeeze. "I'll walk you to Gryffindor Tower."

They walked in amicable silence, ignoring the stares around them. He wanted to be worthy of her and his first step was to publicly show affections instead of trying to hide her away. He was risking his mother finding out exactly whom all those flowers were for and he didn't care. That thought made her heart soar. "I can't see you tonight?" she asked him, wishing he would blow off Quidditch in favor of picking up where they left off in corridor that morning.

"Can't. We're not even going to dinner. We've got a big game against Ravenclaw this week. But perhaps, you'll see me in your _dreams_ ," he teased as they stopped a few yards from the Fat Lady.

She swatted his arm. "Don't hold your breath—"

He silenced her with his lips on hers, their third kiss. He cupped her cheek more gently than she ever would have thought Draco Malfoy capable of and pulled her hips toward him with his other. This time, it was he who slid his tongue over her lip, pausing to suckle her bottom lip between his own before deepening the kiss. She fisted his robes in her hands between them. He tasted of white chocolate and she thought he must have enjoyed a square of chocolate identical to her own.

Malfoy pulled away first and his heated breath ghosted across her face as he let out a small chuckle and brushed his lips chastely against hers once more. "I've got to go now…try not to let me affect your slumber _too terribly_ ," he finished with a cocky wink.

o-o-o

Hermione pulled the curtains around her bed that night, feeling foolish as she pulled the crimson bag from the pocket of her pajama pants. She used a sticking charm to place a leaf in each corner, their points facing the center where she stuck the largest of the leaves.

She lay her head down on the pillow and pulled her covers up around her. Her thoughts were already of a certain silvery blond haired Slytherin, the feel of his lips on hers, his hands gripping her hips. Hermione fell into a quiet slumber quickly, a smile playing across her face.

o-o-o


	4. Desire

_They were in her room at her home in London…except it was different than Hermione remembered. Usually cramped with overflowing bookshelves and cloaked in shades of Gryffindor red and gold, it was now open, airy. The room was decorated in shades of blush, white, silver and black. The window was open and a light breeze blew through the window, carrying with it the sound of the children yelling and laughing jovially outside. Warm sunlight filtered through as blush colored sheer curtains blew lazily about._

_What was even more absurd than the new version of her room was_ who _was in her room with her. Draco Malfoy was currently grasping her hips to himself, his fingertips pressing into her through a flirty white dress. He was wearing a white buttoned shirt and a pair of black dress slacks. It was strange—she could comprehend that she was dreaming in some level of her subconscious, but everything about it felt so right—the breeze ruffling his hair, the sound of children playing in the bright sunshine, the airy feel of the bedroom, the romantic hues adorning the room._

_She could feel the backs of her legs pressing against the bed behind her as he gently urged her toward it, bringing his hands from her hips to cup her face. He dipped his face to meet hers and he tasted like strawberry ice cream—sweet, sugary. Draco suckled her bottom lip and teased her lightly before she felt the heated tip of his tongue beg for entry. She granted him access, her mouth opening in perfect sync with his as he kissed her, slowly, sensually._

_Hermione could feel the sinewy muscles that ran under his shirt, not cut but firm all the same. She could feel the soft hairs that fell across his forehead and brushed her own as his face tilted to fit hers. He brushed his thumbs across her jaw line and she brought her fingers up to unbutton his shirt. She felt him smile into her mouth as he shrugged out of the fabric. She pulled back to look at him and his skin was all smooth porcelain and milky warmth. No scars, no Dark Mark—definitely dreaming._

_Draco backed her against the bed and she allowed him to push her back into the soft down of the bedspread. He landed on top of her gently, their kiss never breaking until he broke it to look down at the hand that ran up over her thigh, toying with the hem of the dress. Even in her semi-conscious dream-state, she could feel her heart thrumming in her chest._

_Hermione deftly unbuckled his belt and pants and slid them down. He stepped out of them and climbed onto the bed, his knees holding her thighs his shoulder length apart. He slid her dress up and she lifted to allow him to drag it up and over her head. Her curls fell around her head and tickled the bare skin of her shoulders as he ran nimble fingers through her hair. Those same fingers ran scorching paths down over her clavicles, the soft swell of her breast, the ridges of her rib cage as her chest heaved in anticipating breaths. Draco leaned over her, resting on his blemish-free forearm next to her head, his right hand clutching her hip. His nose nuzzled into her neck, his breath tickled across her skin, raising gooseflesh that made him smile into the front of her shoulder. His body was heavy and pressed her into the plush bedding, his body heat a searing blanket against her own._

_Hermione moved beneath him and he groaned. "Granger," he growled, nipping her earlobe as his own hips matched her movement._

_He brought his hand down to the hem of her knickers—_

Hermione was startled awake by a tapping on the window. Her eyes shot open, and she had a thin sheen of sweat over her brow. It was just turning dawn outside, but when she looked at the window closest to her bed, she saw Hades the owl tapping his beak against the glass. She looked around the room and made sure the noise hadn't roused any of her dorm mates.

She crossed to the window and cracked it. Hades dropped a single orange rose, tipped in shades of crimson on her sill. He gave her an impatient hoot and she ran her knuckles over his smoky feathers. "I don't have any treats…ask Draco for two when you see him," she whispered and the owl gave her a gentle nip and took flight.

Hermione drew the curtains around her bed and plucked the bay leaves from her pillow—she didn't need another embarrassing venture into the dream world. She bit her lip as she thought of the feel of his hands touching her, his lips nipping at her…a shiver ran down her spine at the thought. The single rose had a simple square of cayenne and cinnamon infused chocolate tied to it with a red, thin ribbon. She had to untie the ribbon to retrieve the card. It was folded in an origami fashion, just as the rose had been days before. She tapped it with her wand and watched as it carefully unfolded itself. A tiny red dragon flew out and breathed a puff of translucent fire before he flapped his wings and flew around her bed twice before disappearing.

_The sweetest dreams of you_

_Ignite a fiery desire_

_Within me._

_DM_

He'd dreamt of her, too? It was awfully early in the morning, so he clearly had trouble sleeping if nothing else. The thought that he could have been dreaming of her just as she dreamt of him made a blush rise over her skin in the dark morning. Would he have dreamt of the same activities she did? What would his perception of her look like in his dream world?

The thought made her suddenly feel self-conscious. She'd never lain with a man before and none had ever seen her as the Gods had made her. The thought of someone thinking of her in the way she had thought of Draco made her heartbeat quicken, the blood pulsing in her neck erratically. The thought of _Draco Malfoy_ thinking of her in the way she'd just dreamt of him made her entire body tingle.

o-o-o

Hermione hadn't seen Malfoy all day. He wasn't at breakfast or lunch. The Gryffindors didn't share a class with the Slytherins on Thursdays. She couldn't stop replaying the dream in her mind, every detail vivid, her senses heightened. It was increasingly difficult to concentrate as the day wore on. She longed to see his grey eyes staring at her from across the Great Hall, the scent of his cologne when he walked close to her, the brush of his hand on hers in the halls, the sweet kisses.

Hermione was overthinking every reason why he hadn't sought her out all day. She was walking the familiar path to the far corner of the library that evening when a hand shot out from between two aisles and took hold of her school bag. She whipped her hand to her robes pocket where her wand was stowed and the same hand grabbed her wrist. "It's just me, Granger. Don't get your knickers in a twist."

Just the husky sound of his deep, rumbling voice made the hairs on her arms stand up. He had pulled her into the restricted section and drew the velvet curtains, placing a sealing and silencing charm across the area. "Malfoy, what—"

He cut her sentence off with a deep kiss, backing her against the bookshelf and knocking a few books around them. Her bag fell from her shoulder to their feet and she thrust her hands up into his hair to tug at the nape. Draco braced himself against the shelf with one hand, his other flat against the small of her back as she arched up into his own chest. She ran her hands from his hair, over his shoulders and chest and then she tucked her fingers into the belt loops of his trousers to pull his hips closer to her.

When he broke the kiss, both were panting heavily and he dragged his lips ever so delicately over her jaw, his rapid breaths hot against her neck—suddenly slow and sensual after the harsh bruising of lips. "I missed you today," he murmured against her skin, moving from the animalistic stance he'd taken and he stepped back, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into him.

"I thought you were avoiding me," she replied, noticing for the first time that he was wearing his Quidditch jersey.

"I could never do that…not purposely, at least. Quidditch practice at every spare moment," he told her, tightening his arms around her waist and lifting her into the air.

She laughed as her feet dangled a few inches above the ground and swatted his shoulder. "Draco Malfoy! You put me down this instant!"

"Or what?" he challenged, spinning her around once.

"Or I'm going to hex you senseless!"

He tightened his grip ever more and spun her through the air twice more. "I suggest you settle for snogging me senseless," he quipped playfully, raising his grinning face to meet hers.

Hermione gave into him, gripping either side of his jaw with both hands and kissing him fervently. The tips of her toes brushed the tops of his shoes as she locked both arms around his neck. They settled into a comfortable rhythm and Draco set her down on the edge of the restricted section's desk. He stood between her knees and braced himself on either side of her hips as he leaned into her kiss. "I'm sorry…" he kissed her jaw "I'm usually not this…" then the soft hollow below her ear " _animalistic_ …" then down to nibble on her ear "But you awaken something…" long, lingering suckles down her neck "positively _feral_ in me…"

"I-I dreamt of you, too," Hermione managed to gasp.

He pulled back and looked into her eyes, his lips puffy and hair mussed. "The old folk trick work then?" he asked playfully.

She hummed and pulled him closer to her once more. "For you, too," she accused.

He traced her kiss-swollen bottom lip with his fingertip. "No, gorgeous girl. Remember, Professor Sprout only gave those to the ladies…I don't need such tomfoolery to dream of your beautiful face."

When he dipped his face to hers once more and kissed her sinfully slowly, Hermione felt like she was in a dream all over again. Except this time, it felt so much more real. She was shamelessly snogging Draco Malfoy in the restricted section of the library, her sanctuary. He was kissing her, hugging her, caressing her, calling her _beautiful_. How did they get to this point? She couldn't quite remember. She could barely remember her own name as his lips assaulted her own.

o-o-o


	5. Friendship and Falling for You

At lunch the next day, Hermione was sitting with Ginny, Neville and Luna had come to join them. They were discussing the trivialities of what each had received in their Valentine's boxes. Ginny had gotten a myriad of trinkets—a charm bracelet, candies and a plethora of letters from hopeful suitors. Neville had received two letters of friendship, one from Hannah Abbott and one from a third year Hufflepuff he'd tutored in Herbology. And Hermione hadn't bothered to open her box yet—her Valentine had come to her in the form of a platinum haired Adonis with a penchant for snogging in dark areas of the library.

Ginny was mid-sentence when she looked over Hermione's shoulder and her eyes grew wide as tea saucers. "'Mione!" she said, putting her hand over Hermione's.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. Draco Malfoy was standing behind her, three dozen canary yellow, long stem roses draped into one elbow. "Hello, beautiful. May I join you all?" he asked politely.

Ginny's mouth was agape as she gestured with a hand at Hermione's empty side. "Malfoy."

"Miss Weasley," he replied, flashing the table a handsome smile before turning back to Hermione. "These are for you. An apology for my behavior yesterday. I value you more than what I showed yesterday," he said, his voice a whisper in Hermione's ear.

He set the roses in front of her and leaned into her, his body angled toward hers as though no one else in the Great Hall existed. And for that moment, no one else did. Hermione didn't register the looks on her friends' faces, the stares from other tables, the glares from other Gryffindors. All she knew in that moment was the soft mercury of his eyes, the light flush splayed on his cheeks, the thin strand of hair beginning to fall from its coif and into his eyes. He pushed her hair over her shoulder and ran a single fingertip over her jawline. "Will you go out with me tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow is Valentine's Day…" she replied, not breaking their eye contact.

"I'm aware. Would you like to be my Valentine?" he asked, a smile playing on his lips that was equal parts bashful and confident.

Hermione thought about their little rendezvous in the restricted section. "I thought I already was—I _thoroughly_ enjoyed yesterday..."

Draco's face lit up. "Hmmm…did you now?" he ran a finger over her exposed wrist. "It's supposed to be warm again tomorrow…how about instead of dinner, we have lunch instead? There's something I want to show you," he said, leaning on his elbow on the table to tilt closer to her.

Ginny was staring with her mouth hanging open and her eyes boggling out of her head. "Who _are_ you?" she asked.

Draco looked over Hermione's shoulder at the redhead, a white blond eyebrow disappearing toward his hairline. "What do you mean?" he asked politely.

"I mean, I heard the rumors of you kissing Hermione in the corridor the other day…I saw the bouquet that the owl dropped to her in Herbology…but I can't believe this…I mean…you were mortal enemies a year ago," Ginny replied in dazzled awe.

"Yes, well War changes things. As such, I would love to get to know Hermione better. And part of that is getting to know her friends as well. Would you, Neville and Luna like to join Hermione and I in the Room of Requirement this evening? We could get the Hufflepuffs to knick some food for a private dinner party," Malfoy offered.

"You want to eat dinner with us?" Neville asked at this point.

"If you all would join us. I wish to pursue Miss Granger in many capacities, but most importantly a strong friendship with her. And how better to learn of someone than through their friends? Not to mention, we aren't in second year anymore—I'm open to talking to people from all walks of life these days…the Slytherins can get dreadfully dull," he quipped, his tone polite and inviting.

Hermione looked from his sincere face to the bewildered faces of her friends. "Tonight? Six o'clock? Room of Requirement?" she asked.

The three others all nodded, Luna happily taking a bite of her mashed carrots. "Excellent. We'll have a good time," he said, standing from the Gryffindor bench.

Hermione stood, too, and Draco dipped his face to hers to press her lips to hers. "Mister Malfoy! Miss Granger! Ten points from Slytherin and Gryffindor. Please refrain from public displays of affection!" Headmistress McGonagall called, looking utterly confused that her favorite student was kissing the ex-Death Eater.

He pulled away and gave her a devilish grin. "We can get rid of the others right after dinner," he promised.

He tapped his fingertip against the tip of her nose and she narrowed her eyes at him playfully. "Until tonight, then."

He sauntered off and the others stared after him in utter bewilderment. Hermione plucked the card from the bouquet.

_As much as I enjoy kissing you,_

_I long to know your mind even more._

_Please give me the chance to get to know_

_What makes the illustrious Hermione Granger tick._

_DM_

o-o-o

That evening, the five met in the hallway outside of the Room of Requirement. Draco took the lead and paced in front of the wall three times to make the door appear. Once the large oak appeared, he opened the door and the others stepped through. There was a large medieval style wood table in the middle of the room, five chairs around it. There was a spread of roast chicken, potatoes, greens and soft rolls in the center. Pitchers of pumpkin juice sat on either end and crystal decanters full of violet colored elf wine were in the center. "The Hufflepuffs repay me for my tutoring services with food any time I want," Draco explained, leaning on the back of one of the chairs.

"Impressive, Malfoy," Ginny commented.

The whole room was dimly lit with open fires in a few sconces along the wall. There was a fire roaring in a fireplace on one side, cushions piled up in a comfortable-looking mountain in front of it. Draco pulled out a chair for Hermione and Neville did for Ginny and Luna.

"I know so little of everyone here, you'll have to forgive me," Draco commented. "I would like to be able to finally talk civilly with the people I've lived in a school with for eight years."

"This is surreal…I feel like I'm dreaming," Ginny commented.

"Why's that?" Draco asked, retrieved a crystal decanter of elf wine from the center of the table and walking to each person's cup to fill them up.

"You're…you were…against us all for so long," she stuttered through her response.

"Ginny!" Hermione shrieked, horrified at her friend's rudeness.

"Yes, and I would take this moment to remind you of your indiscretions the first year you attended Hogwarts," Draco replied coolly. "I believe you willingly wrote in an enchanted diary and unwittingly opened the Chamber of Secrets? Regardless of who gave you the diary, you didn't turn it in to the teachers."

Ginny narrowed her eyes and Hermione was turning a violent shade of scarlet. Draco looked at Ginny, mild irritation and anger on his features. "It doesn't feel so good to have people bring up your childhood mistakes, does it?" he asked her sincerely.

Ginny raised her chin and ground her teeth for a moment. "I didn't come here to fight, Malfoy. For some reason, you are heavily pursuing a witch I consider my sister. And, for equally confusing reasons, she is enjoying your pursuit and wants you, too. So I am going to play nice."

Malfoy sat back down in his chair next to Hermione and nodded once at the redheaded witch. "Truce, then. Let's move on."

"The nargles are infesting the bushes outside of the Forbidden Forest," Luna offered, helping herself to some chicken.

Draco, who had never truly been exposed to her strangeness full on, looked at her, confused at her attempt at a segue. Hermione touched his arm and shook her head lightly. "What do you suppose we do about them, Luna?" she asked politely, taking a sip of her violet wine.

"Everyone knows the way to get rid of nargles is to spray apple cider vinegar into their nests," Draco supplied and no one knew if he was teasing or offering a sincere solution.

"Absolutely right, Draco. I can't believe you read the _Quibbler_. My father would be so pleased," Luna said happily.

Neville looked at Malfoy as though he'd grown an extra head and the blond wizard shrugged, retrieving some potatoes and a roll for himself. Hermione's heart was nearly bursting. Something as small as knowing what Luna was talking about meant he was trying. "So…why don't you all tell me some stories? Things I wouldn't have ever heard before?" he asked.

Ginny cleared her throat. "Well since you're trying to get to know Hermione, do you want to hear some Hermione stories?"

Draco looked at Hermione with an amused look and she raised an eyebrow. Ginny smiled. "Let's see…Hermione Granger…how about the tales of Cormac McLaggen?"

"McLaggen?" Draco was confused.

"In their sixth year, the dance between my brother and Hermione was unbearable. I nearly shot a Bat Bogey at them both—I'm sure you remember how perfectly I can execute that hex," she said, grinning widely.

Draco grimaced and laughed. "All too well."

"Well, anyway. The whole year, they tiptoed around one another. She even sent a pack of magical birds on him in an empty classroom once. He was a right prat and totally deserved it—he was slobbering all over _Lav-Lav_ to make Hermione jealous. So, she decided to get him back. With dear old Cormac."

Draco wrinkled his nose. "You could have done a lot better than him."

Hermione shrugged, her face still on fire. "He was good looking and confident. I thought he would make Ron the most angry…I didn't realize he was a human octopus with slimy tentacles to ensnare me."

Draco let out a laugh as he ate a bite. "You don't care for snogging and groping in dark corridors, then?" he asked devilishly, knowing full well she enjoyed doing just that.

"He didn't _snog_. He sucked out my will to live through my mouth. A dementor would have been better company. I spent the entire time kissing him and then trying to hide from him," she replied.

Neville laughed. "He was awful all around. I never liked him."

"Hermione Confunded him to get Ron better chances at advancing on the Quidditch team," Luna said airily.

Draco raised an amused eyebrow. "I suspected something…Weasley couldn't have ever made the team by himself."

"Hey!" Ginny said, swatting him.

"What about you, Draco? Why don't you tell us a story?" Luna said politely.

"Hmm…something you probably don't know…how about the time Theo Nott and I snuck out in the middle of the night on our brooms and ended up halfway to London before my mother found out."

"That's not that strange," Neville said.

"We were six," he stated and Neville's eyes widened. "We got lost and turned up in Oxford. My mother had a trace on my broom, thank Merlin."

"I'm sure Lucius didn't take kindly to that?" Luna asked.

"He never found out. My mother sandbagged for me all the time. If he had known half the things Theo and I'd done, I probably wouldn't be sitting here," he quipped.

"You're always so… _serious_. It's hard to imagine you being mischievous," Neville commented, refilling his elf wine.

"Oh…Theo and I gave my mother absolute _hell_ ," he said, shrugging. "One time, we replaced her shampoo with her leg cream. She was bald for a week before she could get her hair to grow back," he laughed.

Hermione tried to imagine Draco being playful. It was equally hard imaging a bald Narcissa Malfoy. The night went on with the strange group of people sitting around on the cushions by the fire, the elf wine flowing, laughter rising. It was informative for both Hermione and Draco to listen to the stories of their shared, yet separate childhoods. Everyone gave forth their best effort to get along, but after a while, it came more naturally. He was charming, much to the surprise of the others. Hermione found that she enjoyed his throaty laughs, his charming, aristocratic and polished air. He was treating her friends politely and with an earnest interest. This act meant more to her than any day previous.

o-o-o


	6. Together

The others left the Room of Requirement sometime around midnight, one by one so that it would be harder for Filch to catch them out after curfew. When Luna, the last to go, had exited, Draco closed the door behind her and put his forehead on it. He exhaled deeply. "Well…that wasn't nearly as bad as I thought. They're all actually funny, in their own ways."

"Too bad you spent seven years tormenting us all," Hermione said, her tone more playful than accusatory.

"You know what is absolute _torment_?" he asked, turning around to face her. "Watching you all night and not being able to kiss you."

The look he was giving her was absolutely predatory. Hermione's heart started to race at his severe stare and she shrank back into the cushions, setting her wine glass off to the side. The alcohol was making her entire body warm from the inside and the close proximity to the fire kept it warm. Draco began to stalk toward her, his long legs making quick work of the gap between them. He dropped to his knees in front of her and she met his face half way.

He laced his long fingers into her hair and pulled her face to his fully. His lips, soft to the touch, were anything but soft as they kissed hers. He placed his other hand on the side of her neck, the feel of her pulse beating rapidly beneath his palm causing him to smile into her mouth. "You all right, Granger?" he asked, dragging his lips down over her jaw line until his mouth was right by her ear. "Tell me, do I _excite_ you?" he whispered, his voice throaty and near growling.

She simply whimpered a response and laid back into the cushions, pulling him with her. "Ever the eager one," he said with a small chuckle as he settled between her legs, his weight pressing down into her.

He intertwined his fingers with hers on one hand and pressed it into the cushion by her head, leaning on that forearm and elbow for support as he ran his other hand down her side. "Granger, I don't want to keep apologizing to you…but I really do want you for more than just _this_. I want all of you—your intelligence, your personality, your beauty and your ability to make me weak in the knees," he whispered once more, his breath ghosting over the smooth skin of her neck.

In response, Hermione used her free hand to give his silken locks a gentle tug to indicate he should bring his lips to hers once more. Draco Malfoy ignited something in her that she hadn't felt before him. She never in a million years would have guessed that he would be the one to awaken her dormant heart, her mild and meek sexuality.

The way they were currently splayed on the floor of the Room of Requirement, their positioning was so similar to her bay leaf-induced dream that it brought to the surface the elements of the dream she'd forgotten. She didn't put much stock into Divination, but she wondered if the dream was a foretelling—would she and Draco Malfoy be married with children scampering in the yard while they made love in the bright sunlight? The thought made her blush and he was repositioning himself to look down at her when he noticed the scarlet flush. "What is it?" he asked, suddenly concerned by her quietness, her pensiveness, her pretty little blush.

She swallowed hard. "The dream I had—"

"Ah, yes. The _dream_. Tell me, gorgeous, did you see us doing exactly this?" he asked playfully.

Her blush deepened. "More actually…but it was strange," she started.

He ran his fingertips over her heated cheeks. "Strange how?"

"I-I think we were married…I could hear children playing outside," she said, thoroughly embarrassed by her confession.

He squeezed the hand with their laced fingers. "It's a little early to think of that…but I don't think that _strange_ one bit."

"You would marry me?" she asked him, genuinely curious.

"How about we go on a first date, kitten? And then we'll talk marriage," he laughed and she could feel the deep rumbling in her own chest as he pressed down into her.

He brought his mouth to hers once more, using his to suckle and nip at her bottom lip. Draco ran his free hand down her side once more, pausing to untuck her sweater from the waistband of her skirt. His hand was cool against her hot skin as he ran it teasingly over her hips and down under her back to hold her close. Hermione pulled her hand from his and used both hands to run over his shoulders, feeling the muscle move beneath his shirt as he did above her. He brought his now empty hand over and ran his thumb over her forehead, brushing back little flyaway curls lovingly as he kissed her, passionately but more slowly than before.

Hermione unbuttoned the top three buttons on his shirt and ran her hands over his bare skin, aching for more skin-to-skin contact. The hand that had cupped her back slid slowly over her side once more, resting under the fabric of her sweater, teasing the subtle ridges of her ribcage. In an effort to close a nonexistent gap between them, she bent her legs on either side of his hips, digging her heels into the cushions as she pushed herself up into him. Her skirt pooled around the tops of her thighs and he pulled back to look down at where their hips were pressing dangerously into one another. He could see the tops of her thighs, the slightest hint of red lacy knickers and he groaned. " _Gods_ , Granger."

He ran his hand down from her ribs and up the length of her thigh, resting it on her knee as he pulled away from her to sit back on his heels. He ran his hand back down her smooth skin and pulled her skirt down slightly and tucked it between them to give her some semblance of modesty. "Not yet."

Hermione nearly smacked him in frustrated agony when he did that. She knew he was right—it was no good to rush into anything so early. It had only been a few days. But her teenaged hormones were begging for more. He was looking down adoringly over her fully clothed form, her chest rising and falling as her breaths slowed some. She looked back up at Draco, an odd feeling rising in her chest. His hair was mussed, his face flushed and lips swollen with kisses. His grey eyes, normally light and amused, had dark flecks of ocean blue and were gazing on her, his expression mirroring the odd feeling in her heart.

They had spent so long at war with one another, that they hadn't a clue that this was what they needed all along. His hands were resting on her knees and hers were lazily draped across her own torso. She leaned forward and cupped his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, placing his hand over hers. He brought it to his lips when he reopened his eyes and kissed her palm. Hermione ran her hands under his shirt once more pulled him down to her. He complied with ease and he leaned on one forearm as he snaked his other arm around her and pulled her tightly to himself once more. "What are you doing to me?" he asked, a small smile playing across his lips and he ran his thumb over her eyebrow, her temple.

His whole hand pushed the curls back from her forehead gently and he brought his lips to the exposed, lightly freckled skin. Hermione put her hand up by her head and he laced his fingers with hers once more, still running his thumb over her hairline. Draco lightly kissed down her neck, this time lovingly, not trying to spark sexual urges, but trying to convey the bashful message his voice couldn't. She was beginning to mean something to him that he couldn't comprehend just yet.

"We should go," he said, finally pulling away from her.

She opened her mouth to protest and he placed his mouth over hers to stop her, taking her bottom lip between his teeth. "I'll pick you up from Gryffindor Tower at eleven," he told her.

He was still looking down at her, his hair falling into his grey eyes playfully. She used her hand to push it back across his forehead. "Why can't we just stay here until then?"

He grinned down at her and tapped her nose. "Come on, Granger. It's time to go to bed… _separately._ "

o-o-o

Hermione stepped outside of the Tower at exactly eleven that morning, her stomach twisted in knots. Draco was already standing in front of the Fat Lady, leaning casually against the railing of the staircase. He was eyeing her Valentine's box, a few pieces of multicolored paper sticking out of the top, with mild irritation. In his hands was a bouquet of blue violets and red chrysanthemums, tied with a delicate twine to look more rustic: flowers of hope. A note was nestled into it and she pulled it when she approached him. She opened it and smoke rose from it in the shape of an otter and skipped around them.

_I am hopeful_

_That you will allow me_

_The honor of being part of_

_Your life._

_DM_

Hermione leaned up and kissed him, turning his irritated gaze from her box. "You have many hopeful gentleman," he commented when she pulled away.

She marched over to her box and lit it on fire, the flames consuming the box quickly and leaving everything else untouched. "But only one I am going to allow into my life," she replied, taking the flowers into the Common Room.

He followed and looked around, his nose wrinkled at all of the gold and red decorum. She conjured a vase and water and placed the flowers within before taking his hand and leading him back out. "Where are we going?" she asked him curiously.

"It's a surprise," he said, tutting at her impatience.

They strolled out of the castle, the air still unseasonably warm. She noticed they were walking in the direction of the Quidditch Pitch. "Draco…I'm not much of a flyer," she said, her stomach flopping uncomfortably at the thought of trying to handle a broom.

"No, but I _am_. And we can't get to where I want to go without it," he mentioned.

He entered the Slytherin locker room and she followed, wrinkling her nose at the smell. He retrieved his broom from his designated locker and led her back outside. "Climb on up," he said, holding out his hand to assist her over the hovering broom.

Hermione eyed the broom and then eyed his expectant face. His face softened some. "It's okay. I won't let anything happen to you," he reassured her and she bit her lip, contemplating.

If she didn't get on the broom then she would ruin his surprise since they couldn't get there with out it. And he'd be in control of the broom anyway, so she wouldn't fall. She swung her leg over and teeter-tottered uncomfortably until he climbed on behind her. He put his right arm around her and used his left to take off. Draco felt her tense and tightened his grip. "I've got you," he purred into her ear, his breath warm as he whispered and then kissed her neck lightly.

They soared high into the air and her heart was beating almost uncomfortably in her chest. But she had to give credit to the man—he certainly knew how to handle a broom. They went high above Hogwarts and he turned toward the tallest turret, the misty clouds dampening her hair and kissing her face even as the sun shone.

"We're going to land on top of the castle, so hold on, and tuck your legs up. I'll land and help you off," he instructed and he made to land.

Hermione tucked her legs underneath of her and he touched down, the landing not rough or disjointed, but smooth and steady. He held the broom up and helped her off before he climbed off and stowed the broom against the ivy covered wall of the castle. "Where are we?" she asked, looking around her.

"Everyone always thought the Astromonomy Tower was the tallest peak of the castle. But this is even taller. It's the old professor's living quarters," he stated, taking her hand. "Feeling okay?" he asked, giving her a shy smile and pushing a windblown curl back into her plait.

She smiled weakly and nodded. "I'm fine."

He pulled her toward the stone wall and Hermione took in a sharp intake of breath as she looked out over the land. Stretched as far as the eye could see was a sharp, lush green valley, a raging river running in the deep canyon of the Scottish highlands. Emerald mountains rose out of the ground, capped with melting snow that ran down the sides in streams, rushing to the river below. In the distance, she could see a large body of water. The sight made her shiver and Draco removed his jumper to wrap around her.

"Draco…it's magnificent," she managed to gasp and he grinned as he looked out over the land.

"I come up here often to think. I can breathe here…all of the problems of our past disappear for a while," he said, his voice distant.

Hermione rested her head on his shoulder and he kissed the top of her head. "I hope you don't think it lame that I brought you here instead of to dinner?" he said.

She leaned up and looked at him. "This is perfect."

"I brought lunch as well," he commented, though neither was hungry.

He leaned on the wall and, using their clasped hands, pulled Hermione to lean with him. "I want you to be mine, Granger," he whispered.

"Done," she said simply, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

"Happy Valentine's Day." And he turned her to face him and brought his lips to hers, a hope in his heart that this would be the first of many Valentine's Days together.


	7. Epilogue-Five Years Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saw this on pinterest: "How do you passive-aggressively say fuck you with flowers?"

Hermione marched into the florists' shop on the corner near the home she and her husband shared. It was Valentine's Day and she had had waited at their favorite restaurant for him for nearly an hour before she'd left. She put muggle money onto the counter and crossed her arms over her swollen belly. "How do you passive-aggressively say 'fuck you' in the language of flowers?"

The middle-aged man behind the counter gave her a bemused look. "Well…this is not at all how I imagined the end of my day going. But, come right this way and I'll show you."

The man waved his hand over his shoulder, gesturing for her to follow him into the flower cooler. "I would suggest a few geraniums, to signify stupidity. Foxgloves for insincerity," he plucked a few more flowers, "Meadowsweet for uselessness and yellow carnations for disappointment. Perhaps an orange lily for complete loathing?"

He bunched all of the flowers he'd plucked into a bouquet expertly. It was quite beautiful and full of every meaning she wished to convey to her daft husband. "I'll take it. And can you tie a square of coffee flavored chocolate into the ribbon please?" she asked.

He hated coffee. It would serve him right—his sweet tooth would beg of him to eat the chocolate. She took her purchase and began walking the two blocks home, seething and stewing in her anger the whole way. The nerve of him to stand her up without explanation.

Hermione climbed the stairs to their flat, ruing the fact that she could not apparate in her condition. When she entered, her husband was pacing the living room floor. "Hermione, where in the hell have you been?" he asked, rushing to her to retrieve the bouquet and her bag.

The relief was evident all over Draco's pale face at the sight of her. "Me?" she asked, irritation flowing through her. "Where the hell were you? I sat in the restaurant for an hour!"

"I tried texting and calling you! I got hung up at the office, love," he told her.

"You didn't try calling! I would have heard my mobile go off," she argued.

"Don't get worked up—"

"Don't you tell me I'm getting over emotional because I'm pregnant!" she warned, poking his chest with her finger.

Draco went into the kitchen and retrieved her mobile phone from the countertop. "It would be heard to hear your phone if it's sitting on the countertop at home, dear."

Hermione felt her anger deflate like the air in a balloon. She felt terrible. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, tossing the flowers onto the coffee table.

Draco raised an eyebrow at the sight of them. "Hoping to convey a message with these?"

His wife chuckled guiltily before she felt a spasm rock her abdomen and then there was a trickle of fluid on the floor. "Oh!" was her surprised cry.

Draco was at her side in mere seconds. "Please tell me you just pissed yourself."

Hermione glared at him. "He's not due for another two weeks!"

"You didn't feel any warning signs?" he shrieked, panic now on his face.

"I thought they were Braxton-Hicks contractions!" she replied, waving her hands up and down.

"Braxton what? Okay," he ran a hand through his hair. "Okay. Calm down. Let's get your bag and get to St. Mungo's!"

o-o-o

Hermione held their son the next morning, alone for the first time since she'd given birth. When the Healers had come in to show her how to get the precious babe to latch, Draco had left to give her some privacy. He had gone down to the owlery and retrieved the package his mother had sent—she'd arrive once they'd settled in back at home.

He went up to the room, carrying the special bouquet—enchanted red roses, sprinkled throughout with baby's breath. Flowers of love and innocence. They would never wilt or turn black. He tied a note to it with a piece of milk chocolate.

When he reentered the room, their baby was successfully breastfeeding as Hermione stroked his soft blond hairs. Draco placed the bouquet on the table near her and sat next to her. All those years ago, when he'd given Hermione that first bouquet of forgiveness and studied with her in the library, he never expected it would land him here today. He leaned forward and kissed his son's head, then his wife's tired face.

"What does the note say, then?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at the flowers he'd brought.

Draco plucked it and opened it with a tap of his wand. Out came an ethereal pink version of he, Hermione and their baby, smiling happily. The smoky Draco recited the words on the paper before disappearing.

_I love you more_

_With each passing day._

_But I can't wait to_

_Share you with our son._

_I am so proud of you._

_-Your Draco_

A tear leaked out of the corner of her eye—she'd always loved Draco's magical capabilities. "I love you, too," she told him.

Draco climbed up next to her and placed his arm around her, more content than he'd ever been in his life.

o-o-o

**Author's Note:**

> Gah! As of right now, there will be seven chapters to this, each one a different stage of friendship/love.
> 
> I'm making a collage for this on tumblr as well—find me themourningmadam !
> 
> Please review! I'd love some feedback on this!


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